SIN
by cutie-akane
Summary: Here we were again, going at it as a broken record, as history itself…repeating, wondering, scheming, hurting, suffering… noone but ourselves.
1. And so it starts

**Sin**

Here we were again, going at it; as a broken record, as history itself…repeating, wondering, scheming, hurting, suffering… no-one but ourselves.

Here it was again, his cold stare, calculated, inhabited and terribly dead against mine, that was heated, agitated and full of life.

Here it was again, his soft movement, languid yet predatory against my convoluted, yet less studied mechanical one.

Here it was again, the sound, and the rain and the little nothings he'd hiss in my ear. Daring, provoking, entrancing …meant for a sole purpose, to hurt, to have, to control. His lips, hot and smooth know too well how to dominate and claim and for once I let him take advantage of this. Yeah, 'this' because there's no other word fitting enough for what we do, for what we have, for this sinful act…

The pace that follows is rushed and unused.

Control slips through his fingers and it's just in this moment, when our eyes open and I can see his, that the truth is revealed. It's then that I want to smirk and laugh at him, yeah, right at his face, because I want to think he's at my mercy, so vulnerable and fragile that I could just break him in a whisper. But, no, I know better not too, because he's sly and premeditated and his very act is studied before being performed; he is a good actor but still not good enough to fool me. I guess it showed on my face, the disbelieve, distrust, the hatred… so that when our eyes met once more the mask was gone. There were just his eyes, bitter and threatening, and blue, so blue I could have drowned in them.

Sin.

Sin.

Sin.

Three damn letters that summed it all up, that could relate perfectly to this imperfection, to this cathartic flaw. That could, for once, give me some rest.

I inhaled deeply; his scent flaring the crispy night air, tainting it with its hypocrite etiquette as the rain kept pouring down on us. I might have just cried, had it not been that he could have sensed it. Sensed that he'd the upper hand; that somehow he had finally gotten to me. Cracked me up. Even if just a little.

So I just disguised myself in the darkness of his clothes and pretended to be just like him, a fraud.

The apprentice had beaten the master.

Or so I thought anyways.

He was falling, and hard. Just alongside me. Ragged, erratic, uneven breathing that gave it all away. Soft pants and moans blurring, disappearing as the rain socked us to the bone. His damped blond bangs hanging to his forehead as it would rest against mine. So bloody, bloody wrong…as we regained our breathing rhythm back.

A web of lies was being span.

And I felt caught in it.

As much as he was.

It was a twisted game what we were playing at; so inscrutable that we had to keep it on, as a competition, as a never ending race. My legs had turned to jelly and when he stopped holding me to him I felt myself falling down to the wet muddy ground; his flawless figure had shrunken down the wall too, his head down, poised in his hands.

"Sin" I heard him whisper

Or maybe it was me

I couldn't tell.

And I brought my finger to my lips, still flushed from his heated kisses.

"Sin"

He was right.

Just this time; this only time I accepted defeat.

And it was sinful.


	2. Angry young man

**Angry, young man**

He strode down the corridor, soaked to the bone, his clothes clang to his exhausted body as a second skin. A trail of water left behind his dragging feet.

He couldn't tell whether of not the morning had come to greet his day; clouds layered the sky in the darkest of cloaks, and looking at it from the porthole nearby the marble staircase he cursed such fate.

The chambers were warm and the fire roared silently as whispers could be heard regarding his state. He glared at the faces and saw as they retracted, in fear of his rage, back to their coffins as the dead animals they were. He discarded his muddied drenched cloak and dropped it on the floor before stepping inside his room. The light on the bathroom went on and he squinted his eyes before taking in how much of his stoical appearance had been brought down, how much he had shown; on the damage he had brought upon himself.

The scowl on his face enlarged and he banged the mirror so hard that it broke into a million of pieces. His hand he noticed had dirt under his fingernails and now his fresh blood stained its pale surface.

He snatched his wand out of his pocket and whispered a spell to heal his wounds; knowing well enough that the sole thing wouldn't prevent the scars to appear. He wanted a proof, a reminder of his failure. Of his sin.

The leaking material of his robes pooled down to his feet and he stepped out of them and into the tube. The steam from the bath fogged the room while he sank deep into the warm water. He reached for his sponge and rubbed his drained body, scrubbing the dirt out of his face, sometimes he would press so hard that his sensitive skin would irritate from the vigorous friction he applied.

How had he let that gone so far? To the point of caring even, to the point where halting his actions was not an option anymore but a very needed must. She had been right. It had to stop. Whatever it was that they had been doing had to end. She had been right and that mere thought enraged him.

A screeching voice boomed outside the door. Pansy-fucking-Parkinson.

-"Get the fuck out Parkinson" Draco growled as he angrily grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He opened the door to see her rummaging through his stuff.

-"What the hell! Are you damn deaf?? I said out!" he hissed at her

-"Where is it?" She turned around in disray

-"What the hell are you talking about, Parkinson?" he was in need of sleep and the stupid bench had better go before he lost all of his damn patience.

-"What turned you into that" she accused, pointing her finger at him

Draco scowled at her and turning around let out.

-"Get the hell out and don't you ever come near me"

Pansy's eyes darkened and she snapped at him

-"One day Draco, you'll let you guard down and I'll be there to finish you off"

-"I'll be waiting" he said sarcastically, a smirk making its way to his lips. "Now, sod off!" he demanded waving dismissively with his hand.

Pansy glared at his retreating back as he walked back inside the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

-"Fucking son of a bitch" she muttered under her breath

------

It was not until noon that Draco woke up, his green sheets were tangled around his legs and he stretched, yawning softly. He swung off the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold marble floor.

The common room was desolated apart from Goyle and Crabble who were, once more, going at it, eating some enormous bags of chips while trying to hold a conversation. The first one was achieved; the second was a utopia far from reachable. Draco strode down the aisle, propped down a black leather sofa and stared at them wide-eyed.

-"So, what d'ya reckon happened to him?" sputtered Goyle with a mouth full of chips

-"He probably ventured himself in the forbidden forest" Crabble stated, making completely sense of a quite likely situation; that's it, until he opened his big mouth to finish off his thoughts "to get laid with some of the unicorns" he smiled lasciviously.

'What the hell…' Draco screamed in his mind

-"Yeah, I was exactly thinking along the same line" Goyle admitted openly and grabbed yet another handful of chips. "Lucky guy" he added before shoving them into his mouth.

Draco cringed at their thoughts, his face contorting into a very dramatic disgusting one.

-"You two big oafs, Shut it! Before I go there and shut you myself" he's menacing voice showing his outrage. 'The gall of those two'

Both Crabble and Goyle turned around in search of the source of the voice, locating only his feet that were poised on the sofa wing. They shared an apprehensive look before stuttering together.

-"We di- didn't k-know you were there. We… sorry Draco"

-"You better be, you low life" his arrogant voice was feral "Now get the hell out of my sight and go get some brains"

Crabble and Goyle stood up hurriedly, gathering the chip bags in their arms

-"Let the fuck them there!" Draco demanded and they threw them back into the couch, scattering its greasy contents all around.

Sinking deeper into the sofa, the Slithering prince groaned loudly. He must have been in a dreaded state that morning for those two idiots to notice.

-"Crabble, d'ya think he wants to eat them?" He could still hear their voices coming from the corridor. 'How could someone be that thick-skulled?'

-"I bet that's why he kicked us out" a sad voice answered "and I wasn't even through the half of it" Crabble pouted

Draco sniggered; turning his attention to a grandfather clock by a bookshelf as soon as his peers footsteps and annoying voices had died away.

'Damn it'

The incessant tick of the clock was starting to get on his nerves. It reminded him of Granger, always challenging him to acknowledge her; demanding his attention. For good or for bad; it didn't matter that much; just the fact that he didn't feel indifferent to her was enough. She had gained it, that power to capture him and God only know how long it took Draco to admit that even to himself.

To admit that bookworm Hermione Granger had him wrapped around her finger.

But it was just about enough, he was a Malfoy; and Malfoy's always got their way, by cunning means, by treacherous plans, by cheating and hurting and lying… He was a sinner that had succumbed to temptation.

And she, Granger, was its evidence, and for that he had to kill her.

Because there was nothing more powerful than a secret.

And she was holding his.

-----


End file.
